He Still Couldn't Speak Romanian
by sein Henker
Summary: "He simply flipped over the photo and wrote, in his clearest script and his brightest red ink: 'I am gay. —Charlie.'"


Warnings: No major warnings.

Contains: Coming-out related angst.

* * *

There weren't many photos of himself and Sorin that Charlie particularly wanted his parents to see, but this one was alright. It was from the reservation's New Years party. Charlie had been a little bit drunk and Sorin had been very drunk, and when the clock struck midnight they'd not only kissed each other in public but they'd allowed Audrey to take a picture. They were fully clothed. There was nothing more scandalous in the shot than a bit of tongue and Charlie's far-too-long hair, the latter of which would probably be the object of the majority of his mother's disapproval. Sorin would probably feel better knowing that the photo was a long way out of Romania, anyway.

Charlie tossed the photo onto his writing desk and stared at it for a moment. He reached for a sheet of parchment, but the decided not to waste it. He simply flipped over the photo and wrote, in his clearest script and his brightest red ink: 'I am gay. —Charlie.' He resisted the urge to talk around the issue. He could write them another letter, later, telling them he'd see about coming home for Easter and inquiring as to how Percy liked his new job and the rest of his younger siblings were doing in school. He didn't particularly want his parents' reply to this to begin with "Fantastic! Ron might actually pass Potions this year!"

Three words and his signature. Short and to the point and _easy_. Charlie wasn't in denial about who he was. He could write it. Sending it was going to be difficult, but that was silly. Bill would laugh, if he could see Charlie now. Bill was the only person in the family who knew, and whenever Charlie talked to him about telling everyone else, Bill always made it sound so _easy_... but Bill didn't know. Bill would never know. Bill lived in Egypt because he _liked_ Egypt, and when Bill brought dates to New Years parties and got photographed kissing them, he and the girl were both _proud_ of the photo. Bill looked better in his photos, too. Bill made everything seem easy and cool.

Charlie blew on the ink to dry it, then turned the picture over and stared at it for a moment. That drunken grin on his face was so _goofy_. They'd laugh at him, once they got over their shock. Probably frame the picture and tease him about it every time he came home until the end of time. Or until he broke up with Sorin.

Charlie frowned. Supposing he did break up with Sorin? It wasn't as if they'd made any kind of long-term commitment to each other, or had any intention of doing, even though they'd been together for years. Sorin might not like it if Charlie came out. Charlie might not have as much patience for Sorin's girlfriends if Charlie came out. Charlie loved Sorin in many ways, but Sorin was determined to die in the closet, and Charlie wasn't sure if they'd still be as compatible if Charlie came out.

Charlie might actually start missing England if he felt like he could go back there without having to constantly, actively hide half of his life from his family. Dragon training was hard work, and ever since some kid two months of out Beauxbatons had made some incredibly foolish, drunken choices three years ago, Charlie was just as qualified to be a thestral breeder. Thestral breeding was a _nice_ job. No stress. Your clients didn't shoot fucking flames at you if you pissed them off. And if Charlie were honest with himself, he missed England. He didn't want to stay in Romania forever. He never had. He still couldn't speak Romanian. Most people of the young witches and wizards who came to the dragon reserve _did_ go home after they came out of the closet.

But what was the point of coming out if doing so would _ruin_ his relationship with his boyfriend instead of save it? It seemed foolish. Charlie liked his life as it was. Sorin liked his life as it was. It was awkward but functional.

It didn't make any sense to come out now.

Charlie knew, on some level, that it didn't make any sense to come out _ever_. Coming out was an absurd action that no human being should ever have to take, and there was _never_ a good time to do it. When something serious was going on, he didn't want to make the seriousness all about him. When the family was in a rather light mood, he didn't want to _make_ it serious. He didn't want to come out by mail, because he wanted to see the looks on their faces and know how they _really_ felt, not what they'd tell him they felt after two days of carefully choosing their words. He didn't want to come out in person, because he saw his parents so rarely that he didn't want anything to go wrong when he got to spend time with them. He wanted to stay in the closet forever. He wanted to have come out years ago.

There'd always been reasons not to, though. First he hadn't been sure. Then he'd been embarrassed by the number of orgies it had taken to _make_ him relatively sure. Then he hadn't had a boyfriend. Now he _had_ a boyfriend, and that boyfriend didn't want him to come out.

Charlie threw the picture into the top drawer of his writing desk and walked away. He didn't open that drawer often. Maybe Charlie would forget it was there, and he'd always miss it when he did his "straightening up" for visitors. He'd pull all the gay books off his bookshelf and he'd stash all of the other photos under the sink in his bathroom, but he'd forget about that one. And then maybe his parents would find it. That would be _awful_, but it would end it. Charlie would leave that up to fate.


End file.
